Squarespace Blog / "funny"
because he looks like a child molester. PSSSH. haha. I can proudly say the jokes having been laid on pretty thick around here... and Im taking some good jabs at him any chance I get... I figure its kind of like a reward for me... since i have to look at him *and kiss him* with that thing on his face... its so pokey! Zaq says: "It's official... I'm coining the term "zrustache"... Sure there's the "cowboy" the "handlebar" but this is so sad others struggling as I need a name to their own...." Anyways - there is a purpose to this whole mustache thing if you remember... its actually NOT just to poke fun at Zaq... its to raise money for testicular/colon/prostate/man cancers... It seems like its always about the boobs (lets face it, those are way more fun than balls) and then men kinda get shafted. haha. get it? Sorry.... So the whole month of november you can find both Zaq... and the RockerByeBaby logo sporting mustaches... in hopes to raise some funds and make a difference... So far - members of Team RockerByeDaddy have raised $75!! And we are dang proud of it... So PLEASE! Stop by the Team RockerByeDaddy page and click: Donate to Team... and send anything you can. Even if its just $1... every single bit counts and makes a difference. If every person on the RockerByeBaby fan page donated just $1 - we will have raised over $4,500 ... and THAT my friends, is something to really be proud of...
Mentoring Mondays Teaching you to be a Lady while you teach me to be a Dad. By-the-minute journal entry of Maddie and I earlier this week.
12:17 AM: I’m on whiskey-number 4 and whiskey-number 5 is looking pretty good right about now. Sure it’s late and I need to be up around 6:30 AM but what the hell?! Taking care of a baby isn’t too hard. She sleeps mostly anyway. Might as well enjoy the night.
12:42 AM: Whiskey-number 5 was just great. Here’s to whiskey-number 6 and getting all nostalgic over old music videos on Youtube.
01:29 AM: Bryan Adams is the most underrated songwriter of all time. I’m sure of it. Hang on, I’m going to call my ex-girlfriend, scream “bitch,” and then hang up.
01:31 AM: Alcohol made me forget about cell phones and their built-in caller id. This will be embarrassing tomorrow.
02:17 AM: ….must…sleep….room…spinning….
06:57 AM: Baby crying. Head splitting. Momentarily try to think of child abuse statutes in my home state but my head hurts too much. Baby still crying. Must do something…
06:58 AM: Pacifiers RULE!
06:59 AM: Pacifiers SUCK! They only work for a minute when she’s hungry.
07:04 AM: Holding Maddie while feeding her. She’s so damn cute, I momentarily forget about my mental-threat of child abuse. Being a Dad ROCKS!
07:14 AM: Maddie just threw up all over me. Being a Dad BLOWS!
07:15 AM: After cleaning up myself and Maddie, she smiles at me and coos. Decide that Maddie can live a bit longer.
09:23 AM: Maddie falls asleep in my arms while we are chilling on the couch. She’s so beautiful and precious. I feel lucky to be alive and am grateful for her and all that I have.
11:35 AM: Maddie cuts a fart that would put the Blazing Saddles campfire scene to shame. I momentarily marvel at the awesomeness of my daughter.
11:36 AM: I check her diaper after the above mentioned fart. Oh. My. God. Screw that, there IS no god. Nothing that foul can come out of something so small and cute.
11:38 AM: Diaper changed and I am forever changed. I now understand battle-hardened Marines and their thousand-yard-stares. They saw it all and came back from the brinks. So did I.
12:04 PM: I get hungry and decide to make a sandwich.
12:05 PM: Every time I walk away Maddie starts crying. As soon as I walk in to where she can see me, she stops crying and smiles. Too cute. But I am hungry. Back to sandwich.
12:08 PM: After four minutes of back and forth from the kitchen to the living room and still unable to construct a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I slowly come to the realization that I’m being schooled by a three-month old. I am shamed. Maddie keeps smiling.
01:17 PM: Maddie goes down for her nap and I hop on the internet to check my chances of spontaneous combustion.
01:18 PM: Outlook not good for spontaneous combustion.
02:19 PM: The wife calls and says we need more diapers. I tell her that she’d better go and get them. She asks me “what?!” I say “nothing, dear. What size?” The wife then reminds me that this is Minnesota and that it’s cold out and that I need to put Maddie in her bunting. I tell her that that is not an appropriate verb to use about our daughter. She says “I said ‘bunting’ you idiot! With a ‘b’ and not a ‘c!’” A quick check from Google confirms this. Again, I am shamed. And apparently a pervert.
02:24 PM: I finally get Maddie into her bunting. Spend a moment marveling at how ridiculous she looks. She looks like Ralphie from A Christmas Story. She looks like something Lewis Carroll would’ve dreamt of while on copious amounts of acid.
03:30 PM: In the past half-hour I’ve managed to feed Maddie, change her, take a shower and get dressed for work. Spend the next seven minutes making sure Maddie doesn’t throw up on my pants or shirt.
03:34 PM: Epic FAIL. Must find clean shirt. Hmm. The one on floor next to the laundry basket doesn’t smell too bad…
03:37 PM: The wife comes home and I leave thirty seconds later.
03:44 PM: Creeping onto the highway at twenty miles per hour, I try to remember what my wife looks like. But in my mind all I can see is Maddie.
04:46 PM: Pull into the parking lot of Best Buy to start my shift. I am beyond tired.
06:32 PM: A customer seems upset that we don’t carry the type of guitar strings he wants. I resist the urge to grab him by the shirt and scream “Hey man! It’s no big deal! They’re just guitar strings! You wanna know what happened to me today?! I got shit on, pissed on and puked on and I’m here smiling. You, you’re all bent out of shape over guitar strings!” But I say none of this.
07:11 PM: Even after all the above-mentioned events of the day, I find that I miss Maddie. I sneak out to call the wife to inquire about the baby. All is fine.
10:36 PM: Done with work. My whole body hurts. I’m so tired that even my hair hurts. I stagger to my Mazda and drive home.
11:11 PM: Home. The wife is asleep on the couch with Maddie resting belly-down on her chest. It is easily the most beautiful scene I will witness all year.
11:22 PM: I make a light dinner, careful to not make too much noise and sit down to eat. As I sit down the wife stirs and opens her eyes, sees me and smiles. Now I remember what my wife looks like. She looks like love and joy. I remind myself that I am very lucky.
12:17 AM: We put Maddie into her crib gently as to not disturb her slumber. She’s a sleeping angel with light red hair, big blue eyes and a mouth that can’t help but smile. The wife gives me a hug and a kiss and thanks me for taking such good care of our baby. Shucks Ma’am. T’was nothing.
According to Time Magazine (http://www.time.com/time/
Adam's Mom and I have always gotten along famously--even better than they get along themselves. Near the end of the pregnancy, she and I talked every day, and I think we both enjoyed the companionship. But something seemed to change once Maddie was born. A list of events on both our plates made for a stressful concoction, and in the end resulted in Adam and I feeling overwhelmed, asking (politely) for some space, and her feelings being hurt. Since then, there has been a disconnect between she and I, and sometimes I feel as if Adam is keeping two cats separated in opposite corners so they don't hiss at each other. Or maybe my imagination is getting the best of me.
“In [Cambridge University psychologist Terri Apter's] study [of in-law tension], two-thirds of women said they felt their mothers-in-law were jealous of their relationships with the sons, while two-thirds of mothers-in-law said they felt excluded by their sons' wives.” (I hope that's not the case with my MIL.) I think whatever rifts we experience with our MILs stem from the intense bond each of us feel for our children. That fire that churns within us when we feel someone challenges our comfort zone, within which our parenting skills, relationship adroitness, and love for it all lie.
You can't pick your family. But even when we're at odds, we love those crazy goons. What I do find comfort in is this: even at our worst odds, there is one link--one truth--that forever bonds us: the love, and willingness to do anything, for our children. In that, if nothing else, we can look at each other and share a genuine smile.
What do ya think?! LOL!!
Love ya Jared, but I think ill stick with my cute little baby models, haha.